poetry

poetry
Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 31 december 2023

Inheritance

When you plan to quit,
the ghost limb will slash the wrist
to swallow pride.

I do not want to
call you my yesterday. Past
takes revenge.

Nemesis comes
to play its role. Divine
punishment for me.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 december 2023

Prerogative

Your absence
creates an aura. The
concealed hurt.

Today when the sun
of longest day goes down,
the night will wait.

To buckle under
the titanic grief of
sea, not sinking me.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 december 2023

Summer Solstice

Longing to sit on
your pink lips, a butterfly
wants to say goodbye.

Bloodletting was
a big mistake. Only
white shroud imprints.

You had passed
through my body leaving
footmarks in eyes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 december 2023

Fairy Dance

You wished a
talented end. When you
denied me, where

Was the wrong moon?
Like nightbird you birthed
an astral poem.

Plunged in bone―
deep, an arrow ejects a
rose from belly button.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 december 2023

Dark Circles

I am not a paragon.
Everyday I will repeat
some hymns to myself.

Sometimes the
truth becomes transgender.
From god to goddess.

Grace and courtesy.
The moon anchors a smile.
Tears roll silently.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 december 2023

Song Of The Sky

Strawberry moon
descends. Words wait for
your hubris. The lake

Never arrives,
doubting the color of
rising sun. I get

My gift of sacred
punishment to solve the
love's chemistry.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 december 2023

Vision And Vibrations

Give me pain of
your pain in summer moon,
not to miss the blues

Of valleys.
God to God a scream devastates
some anagrams.

Tonight I will sit
under stars to cool
the sadness of tears.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 december 2023

Vision And Vibrations

Give me pain of
your pain in summer moon,
not to miss the blues

Of valleys.
God to God a scream devastates
some anagrams.

Tonight I will sit
under stars to cool
the sadness of tears.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 december 2023

Of All Time

I ask you, to be my
rage. Unwavering in
the timelessness.

No more I was
protagonist. New moon
will sit on my eyes.

Bare foot I walk
towards the burning pyre, to
see the ascent of ashes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 december 2023

Don't Die

It comes nearer
and nearer every night,
the face, like fog.

A cult of moon
spills the milk on the pink lips.
Salt and the honey.

Before fated
kiss of death, you pluck,
roses from eyes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 december 2023

Gospel Truth

Body was culture
at blue heights. Frozen
till my candle lights.

I fumble in dark
to remain human. No one
would be godfather.

Give back my pain.
Unwrap my bones. The blood
should be drying up.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 december 2023

Predicament

Today the sun
will rise without you in pain of
two stars kissing.

A brief pause
between the hiccups. Poem
was incomplete.

How would I say
you goodbye facing the dark
burningmoon?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 december 2023

Learning You

You should not
have done this? Trespassing
the virginity of the
olive branch and the ashes.

I will borrow the
words to clean blood
in your eyes. A lovely
jasmine will sit on your lips.

The death holds its
own mercy between good
and bad. Any fondling
of moon was a bliss.

Where will dysplasia
go, after giving an unbearable
loss? You cannot roll the
carpet after the blaze.

The tangerines will give
a big surprise.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 december 2023

Thought To Thought

To become insane,
I think. I miss the ruptured
wounds.

I ask myself,
was it true, you
were painting water body?

Somebody was
laughing after the funeral
of raped truth.

The bells go
without sound. I hold
my trembling hands.

The door knob was
broken. I cannot open the
portal of dreams.

A lone swan treads
softly on the smashed mirror
to reach the lake.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 december 2023

Trembling Vibes

Living without you
was like a kite, flying
alone in blue sky.

Like a downy mildew
climbs the damp poems.
Letters tremble.

Wearing all red, frills
a setting sun, was
smiling in deep sleep,
tears swiping the dry lips.

Maybe, you wanted
to set me free from
tarantula's web.

Going there
where moon weeps.
I will search the rock.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 december 2023

At The Edge Of Life

Simple hearted priest
asks me to stay dead. The mystery
of living in the eyes of God is unveiled.

One day words would stop.
Then you find the killer was killed and the
suffering of living would exist ever.

The point of observation
has no observer. The mode of revert
living gives you eternal peace.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 december 2023

The Madness

You were eating
out from our hands.
O God, we are hungry.

Sometimes I collapse
in on myself, to achieve
the quietus. Even moonlight
won't escape from me.

I collect the ashes
falling from your
golden locks. Was it the death's
pride?

The moon fattens
to receive the lost crown
of sleeping queen.

The shadow falls
at your feet. You become
taller than me.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 december 2023

Your Empathy

Why your lips
quiver, kissing a rose
before sunrise.

A serious question
seeks a simple answer.
Why did you live
inside me?

I don't believe in
myself. I will go
with the moon.

Just wanted to
know, how do we
die in sleep, when
body curls like a snake
to shed the skin.

I look at the world
pass by. None was
my grain.


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Andrzej Talarek

Andrzej Talarek, 9 december 2023

Psalm Czterdziesty Dziewiąty. Kto chce dziś słuchać, że warto być biednym

Biblia Tysiąclecia: Zagadka powodzenia bezbożnych
Jan Kochanowski: Słuchaj, co żywo, wszytki ziemskie kraje

Kto chce dziś słuchać, że warto być biednym,
niech słucha. Choćby swoim uchem jednym.
Niech też słuchają ci, którzy pieniądze
nad wszystko mają, a za nie swe żądze.

Czy tu mądrością zabłysnę dziś, nie wiem.
Czy roztropności z serca dam zarzewie?
Jednak los ludzki, szczęśliwy czy smutny,
zderzę ze sobą w sposób dość okrutny.

Żył biedny człowiek, żył też i bogaty.
Bogacz pieszczoty, biedny dostał baty,
jeden od losu, a drugi od Boga.
Taka przez życia była obu droga.

Pomyślał biedny: no i cóż, że razy?
Pójdę do nieba, nie wezmę urazy.
Pomyślał bogacz: ale go złoiłem
i tyle złota na nim zarobiłem.

Pomyślał biedny: warto żyć uczciwie,
Bóg mnie nagrodzi w niebie sprawiedliwie.
Bogaty w złoto dni swoje obtoczył,
w końcu świątynię zbudował i spoczął.

Żył też poeta tak mądry, jak biedny.
Dla Boga pisał wciąż poemat rzewny.
Myślał: cóż złoto, za grobem nie działa.
I umarł z głodu, poezja została.

Żył wreszcie mądry, co nie chciał biedować.
Wołał w mądrości swej nowe budować.
Sam się dorobił i biednym dał pracę.
Za to i Bóg mu, i ludzie zapłacą.

Wszyscy widzimy: mędrcy umierają,
głupcy, prostacy, wszystko zostawiają,
co dorobili. Z Bogiem, czy bez Boga.
Na koniec tylko mniejsza, większa trwoga.

Nikt też sam siebie od śmierci nie kupi.
Nawet świątynią. Jeśli nie jest głupi,
wcześniej pojedna się z Bogiem w swej drodze,
złoto zostawi, wziąć go wszak nie może.

Jednak zostaje coś po nas na ziemi:
życzliwe słowo, które nawet niemi
o nas wyszepczą, albo przekleństw wiele
nad złotem, choćby zostało w kościele.

Nie nam rozstrzygać, co będzie za grobem.
Czy nierób wygra niebo z groszorobem?
Czy dobre słowa u Boga przeważą -
choć on wie wszystko - i winy nam zmażą?

Czy do Szeolu bogatych Bóg wygna
jak stado owiec, z dala od poidła,
którym jest źródło Boga obecności
i tam na zawsze bogaty zagości?

Tego nikt nie wie. Na próżno prosimy
o zły los dla tych, których nie lubimy.
I potępienie im prorokujemy.
To tylko Bóg wie. Na tym przestajemy.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 december 2023

Sad Protégé

I don't recognize
you, after giving
a pause to poem.

It was an eerie
accident. I don't own
my body, and you don't
own your tears.

With solemnity, I
place my book, on the road
going nowhere. To be
read by the sun.

You buy the words
I sell the silence.

The hyphens wail.
Cost rises.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 december 2023

After Thoughts

How I loved you
green, in hot summer
noon, when you

Were not mine.
Sky scented with nostalgia
talks to gypsy moon.

Each star becomes
a wound. The winged thoughts
fly like monarchs.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 december 2023

Blue Sunstroke

Time to think.
You bring handwritten
testament with mistakes.

I exist because
you were there. Between
sun and moon, there
was no controversy.

I was knitting
my life near hornets nest.
Words betray the anguish,
giving credit to hemlock.

Disempowered
in shadows, I become
my own rival to fight
green snakes.

In sleepwalking
you discover the blind
walls. All blood-stained skulls
start rolling.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 december 2023

Blue Sunstroke

Time to think.
You bring handwritten
testament with mistakes.

I exist because
you were there. Between
sun and moon, there
was no controversy.

I was knitting
my life near hornets nest.
Words betray the anguish,
giving credit to hemlock.

Disempowered
in shadows, I become
my own rival to fight
green snakes.

In sleepwalking
you discover the blind
walls. All blood-stained skulls
start rolling.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 december 2023

Empty of Answers

Alter ego,
you were my broken
mirror.
From where do we start
watching crescent moon?

Where the poet
will go in search of ink,
to reshape the words of solace,
living out of truth?

O, incredible! Your
maiden steps had faulted
to reach the vanity
of glittering heights.

How will you fill in
the blanks, blindfolded?
Sun had already gone down.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 december 2023

Were It You?

I wanted to talk
in between words. The sage
has lost aroma.

Of unknown gifts.
Kitchen would answer for
all the bonfires.

Conceive the truth
of mirror. I will reflect
in your opal eyes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 december 2023

Changing Name

I don't seek the
renunciation. It were
you to turn divine.

What you would not
tell my tale of abdication
in pain of the birth?

You are shrinking
at blanks between tears.
Only the steps bleed.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

steve

steve, 2 december 2023

"Do You Think You Can Save Me"

How do you know, of the pain in my soul...
Were you there when I cried for you?
You've never been there to show me you care,
But you say you love me too,
"Do you think you can save me", from what I've become,
Do you despise what you see?
Is the truth hard to hear, do you live with the fear,
That you've become just like me,
And though I've been told, my heart can be cold,
I only know what I see,
That life can be cruel, and I'm just a fool,
for believing that you could love me.


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Anuraag Sharma

Anuraag Sharma, 2 december 2023

PAPA IN O.T.

There is a there
where you are;
here is a here when
let me go then
I and I...
Unlashed slits unlatched
grow hands, finger-tips
to sense your presence
propinquitious.
Little bowris* on sides both
grow legs stepping down to the doormat
some footsteps shuffle and ripple
watery silence of the corridors.
The back of my palms
perforated with needled eyes
with doctor’s tape apertured
pain looks through and beyond.
A bottle of glucose
oozes in liquid hope
to metamorphose a here’s when
to a there’s then.
Then, green aprons flutter,
come to collect a withered leaf
to graft in the purgatory
(they call it OT).
Where are you, my acorn?
A condensed drop of flight is
flushed into at the bottom of my spine —
the mint-mermaid singing

on the shores of the unknown and dancing
all wheres and whens away...

* A word from local dialect, meaning ‘little ponds’.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 december 2023

Multicast

In love with me.
To be with you. Eyesight
gets dim in twilight.

One day you had
moved away unsettling
the planets and stars.

Listen, we human
beings, come near each
other, then god fails.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 december 2023

No Regrets

Looking at the
moon will hurt you bitter―
sweet one day.

At night. Tinged with
pink ache in eyes of the
collapsed soul.

Don't pursue flesh,
of the had been goddess
to avenge me.


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